Be Good and Good Will Follow
by Leafy Lincoln
Summary: Sometimes he wondered whether being good was worth it. Billy Batson Drabble.


The taste of salt and rust was present when he opened his mouth to speak. No coherent words came out, only a long moan of pain.

His body ached, occasionally convulsing when particular movement deemed itself to strenuous. Yet, he didn't stop- couldn't stop. He had to get up, to go hero, to go save the day, to go help his friends. It was still a battle and he still had to fight. They needed him. They needed Captain Marvel.

Eyes squeezed shut when he tried shifting into a sitting position against the slab of rock he'd broken when he crashed through the wall, a pained grimace taking over his features. He didn't have the strength to stop the whimper from escaping his mouth when his broken arm scraped itself against the jagged concrete floor. He tried moving his legs, only one responded without causing a stabbing pain to shoot up his thighs. His breathing got shallow and he saw red along his peripheral vision.

Black Adam had sure left him in a broken heap. They had battled for a while, exchanging blows, each trying to find that advantageous edge that would ultimately decide who'd end up on top. However, it was quite clear now who the winner was.

The finishing blow had come to a surprise, the magic added to it zapping painfully into his side. He had time to register the fact that a sticky, red substance was oozing its way out of his supposedly invincible body before Black Adam was upon him again. Everything was a blur after the first dozen punches; he vaguely remembers a tight hold snaking its way around his neck for a few, precious seconds, making his vision go white and making something crack ominously.

Then the vicious man had tossed him aside and set out for his teammates, hollow laughter trailing behind him. Lightening crackled and he was Billy Batson again. A useless, battered, Billy Batson. His enemy's thick hand came up in a farewell, along with the words 'Be a good little boy, now.' The boy could only slump to the ground, nursing his injuries as he attempted not to cry. There was no possible way he could form words, only cries of a broken animal.

_Be good and good will follow_.

That's what Mom had always said. And he had believed her. Their very presence was the reward for the good deeds he did, ever so loving and devoted. Mom would smile at him, shining up his entire world, and rub his cheek gently while Dad would ruffle his hair affectionately, telling him how proud he was of him. He sighed, thumping his bruised head against a slab of rock; closing his eyes and leaning into their imaginary touch, just like he use to do, laughing as he exclaimed he would be good for them.

Then, they had left him all alone. Alone in a crater, in the middle of a desolated warehouse, nursing his wounds as he curled into himself. Neither one of them was there to remind him of their last parting words, that all his troubles would account to something great. He had to reassure himself, despite the difficulty in his current situation.

Sometime he wondered why he kept on. Before he was Captain Marvel, he stood up for what he thought was right, even when it gave him more trouble and wounds. And as Captain Marvel, he was well aware of the dangers he'd be in if he wanted to fight, all for the greater good. He'd deal with the trouble, shoulder them, and move along, all to be as good as Mom had asked him to be. But in his physical state at the moment, more pain and hurt than he'd even felt in his entire life, a part of him wanted to quit it all and not deal with the horrors that being good brought. Being good came with too many consequences, too much pain and not enough happiness.

Dimly, he knew he never would, even though it was oh-so-tempting. Mom always said people got what they deserved, whether or not it was little by little, coming on instantly or slowly. Good people would have troubles, but they always had something- family, friends, laughs, and just plain happy times. Bad people thought they had everything, but in reality, they wouldn't have anything at all, only their selfishness to accompany them and their ultimate demise. And Mom had only lied to Billy once, and that was concerning something that was out of their control. So Billy would continue believing what Mom had said.

Billy shifted slightly when he heard crashes in the distance, his thinking momentarily disrupted, followed by yelling. He knew those voices, so familiar, they were the team. And then Black Adam's voice rang out clear, terrifyingly close and angry.

"I'll take care of you pathetic insects just like I did with the kid!"

His eyes snapped open. He mouthed the words his lips couldn't say. _No. No. Oh, please no. No one else. Please. Not them. Please._ Where was the good in the world? Where was the good he was promised? Where?

He wanted to get up. He wanted to fight. He wanted to help. Yet, his body refused his demands. It had admitted defeat. And with every cry of pain and every loud crash that reached his ears the boy cringed. His nose ran, clogging up his nostril so that his mouth opened to grasp that air that escaped him.

Then, suddenly, there was silence.

Billy's body trembled all the harder. The silence was unnatural, bearing down on him like the weight of the world. It crushed him, squeezing the red liquid of life out of him even faster. He could feel his blood pulsing through and out of him. The sound of his accelerated heartbeat rang through his ears, easing the frightening force of the silence away. Soon, though, another sound accompanied it, driving the fear his way again. It was the sound of footsteps. Footstep directed his way.

Black Adam. He had killed the others and was coming back to gloat and undoubtedly finish him off. He knew it, he just knew it. Dull blue eyes shut slowly as he sagged back to the ground like a lifeless corpse. Death would be undeniably painful, but he would get to see them all. The team and his parents. He could finally tell Mom and Dad that he had been good; at least, he had tried to be. They would smile and greet him with open arms, taking him somewhere sunny and warm, away from the despair and hurt the bad world provided.

He tried smiling, but found he couldn't. The footsteps were almost upon him now. A breath of air that he assumed would be his last wheezed out of him as he prepared himself for what came next. He would miss Uncle Dudley…

"Captain…?" Wait. What? That wasn't- It couldn't be- Impossible.

Snapping his eyes open the boy started. There they were; the team. Aqualad, M'gann, Robin, Artemis, Superboy, and Kid Flash. It had been Aqualad who had said his name, not Black Adam, Aqualad. And it was Aqualad that said it again now as he hesitantly reached out to him. "Captain… Are you alright?"

His throat burned with agonizing pain as he let out a strangled cry of joy. His mouth twitched up to form a smile, though it flickered in and out of existence as if it didn't truly believe this was actually happening. They were alive; extremely battered, yes, but alive nonetheless.

Ignoring the excruciating pain that racked his body he lurched forward. Aqualad caught him when it looked like he would hit the ground. His arms held up his small figure when it went limp with exhaustion and relief. They were strong and reassuring, telling him that he wasn't alone and that everything was going to be okay. It was then that he let the tears fall in their delicate array, trailing down his face with a salty shine.

Through his loud sobs, sounding strained with his battered throat, he could hear the status report M'gann gave on his condition. With every word she uttered the mutterings of the others increased and Aqualad's hold on him grew tighter. The newfound pain this cause him got a whimper out of him, the team freezing and zoning on him with hawk-like alertness. They were worried, but he was too happy that they were alive to care at that moment. Mom and Dad couldn't be there, but that didn't mean he didn't have a family to remind that good things happened to good people.

In silent agreement, probably with the help of M'gann's mind link, they departed the warehouse. Billy curled into himself in Aqualad's arms, face smashed into the leader's chest, staining his costume with a mixture of tears and blood. The Martian of the group took it upon herself to soothe his mind, neutralizing the signals of pain his nerves sent throughout his body. That's how he ended up in a peaceful sleep, secure in the safe hands of his team as they flew towards home.


End file.
